Meisterchef: Baking Edition
by kuchipachi
Summary: It all goes wrong when on the night of the anniversary celebration, Sid accidentally Forced Burials the DWMA squad to a place entirely unexpected and entirely full of Food Rage as our beloved protagonists come up against the most terrifying foe they'll ever encounter: Gordon Ramsay. He's into baking now, and he's gonna put them through the wringer. Will they survive? Find out!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey everyone! I used to be a member of ages ago but then I lost the details to my account and got real busy. Now I'm less busy and I'm full of a burning desire to write tons and tons of stuff, so I thought I'd start with this crack-tastic little nugget that's been sitting in my brain for the past few months. It's total ridiculous crack. There will be some pairings but I haven't decided which yet - except for Ox Ford x Gordon Ramsay. Look forward to it friends!**

 _ **Disclaimer** : __I don't own Soul Eater. Soul Eater is the property of Atsushi Ohkubo and Square Enix, and is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only. Furthermore, this is a work of fiction which features fictional representations of real people. Needless to say, none of the events are true. Gordon Ramsay is not at all like how I paint him in this, and my version of him here is based solely on his TV personality. It is complete and utter crack-tastic fictitious fiction. **  
**_

 **IN A KITCHEN FAR FAR AWAY...  
**

I didn't think I'd ever meet someone more terrifying than Medusa, but then I met Gordon Ramsay.

"You call that a _cupcake_!? That's not a f***ing cupcake! I don't bake, I don't even _like_ cakes and I can tell that's not a f***ing cupcake you f***ing moron!" he screams, not at me but at Black Star and his lump-of-moist-dough-with-a-star-signature-on-it 'cupcake'.

"You think you could bake a better cupcake than _me_ , small-fry? I am the man who will surpass GOD, and this is the _cupcake_ that will surpass God!"

"Just take this piece of s*** away from me, please. I don't even want to _look_ at it."

"What, are you afraid, weakling? Look upon my cake! LOOK UPON IT!"

Tsubaki starts dragging Black Star back to their 'Team Star' kitchen area, "Black Star, let's just move on. We can bake more cakes."

"You have a ridiculous accent, you stuck up old man!" he roars as he's pulled along the floor's black marble tiling.

I pull on Soul's chef apron, "Come on, we're next."

He sighs, "Do we really have to do this?"

"We have no choice, we're Meisterchefs now."

"What about the DWMA?"

My shoes clack against the tiles as I walk towards Ramsay's judging table. Professor Stein stares at me from his kitchen area at the front. His eyes are burning with seriousness, but I can't tell what he's thinking. Now we're before Gordon Ramsay himself. Cameramen swoop in, surrounding us in a wall of lenses.

"So what is it that you're serving me?" he barks.

"We call it Rainbow Cupcakes. Five cupcakes, each with a different flavour."

"You know I hate cakes."

"But you told us all to bake you some unique cupcakes!"

"I know what I said."

He picks up the red strawberry cupcake. Red. My mind jumps to images of Sid-sensei, his wounds red as he rushes into the hall, screaming that there's a trap. Life at the DWMA seems like it was forever ago, even though it's only been a few days. Is it too late to stop Medusa now? I remember Sid-sensei's last words: "I can't save everyone, but if I can teleport enough of you, then maybe, just maybe..."

"Teleport us!?" I cried, "What do you mean by that Sid-sen-"

"FORCED BURIAL!"

Before I could understand what was going on, I was falling down into a dark, damp casket. When I opened my eyes, I was in a bright room, surrounded by enormous bags of flour and the distant screams of an angry man - Grandmeister Chef Gordon Ramsay. Did Sid-sensei _intend_ to send us to his horrible place, or was he trying to send us somewhere else?

"Not bad," Ramsay grunts, stuffing the remainder of the cake into his oversized mouth. "The strawberry flavour in the icing really comes through, and the consistency is nice as well. However, the cake itself is way too dense. It's like eating a wet rag."

Soul was in charge of the cake. I look at Soul and see that he's not even trying to hide his utter disdain for the 'Grandmeister'. I notice myself playing with my dress in nervousness. I still my hands. Why am I afraid of this man? He has no power over me. One Maka chop would knock him out instantly.

Ramsey licks all the icing off the rest of the cakes and then burps in satisfaction, "Good effort, you two. Next time don't f*** up the density of the cake."

He waves us away and we shuffle over to our kitchen at the back of the room. Soul tears off his apron and throws it to the ground, "This is bullshit. I'd rather be tortured by Medusa than endure _this_."

"That's a good point... why is it that when Ramsay swears, he makes a bleeping noise, but when we swear, nothing happens?"

"What?"

 **BACK AT DEATH WEAPON MEISTER ACADEMY**

"Eruka, inject the black blood into the Kishin as soon as possible. It seems that someone has broken through the Independent Cube."

"Understood, Medusa."

I order the others to get to their positions, then I ready myself to fight off the intruders. I didn't think the DWMA would be able to get through my trap so quickly, but no matter, I won't let them interfere with my plans. This ends here.

I hear footsteps approaching from the darkness. Three very weak souls. I almost feel insulted that they would send such weaklings to stop me. I consider the possibility that it's a distraction.

And then I see them. Three middle aged men in what appear to be... chef outfits?

"Gordon? Gordon?" one of them calls out, "Are you having a laugh, mate? Where'd you put my carrot cake?"

"They've really kicked this Masterchef up a notch," says another.

"AAAA" screams a third, different voice.

I realise very quickly that these men aren't from the DWMA. They're strolling nonchalantly towards me with no sense of threat whatsoever. I hiss at the one on the left. He gives me a puzzled look and asks, "Are you part of the competition too?"

Having no patience for fools, I grab him by the collar of his white shirt and growl into his face, "Who are you? Where are you from?"

He freezes, his eyes bulging out of his head.

"I'm, I'm" he stutters, "I'm Jamie Oliver. I'm here for the same reason everyone else is: to cook for charity. I just wanna bake some healthy cakes."

I drop him to the stone floor and march over to the next one, "And you?"

"Emeril Lagasse," he doesn't shiver like Jamie does. I pull him close till I can smell his rancid breath,

"If I wanted to, I could kill you where you stand."

He gulps. Satisfied, I grab the final intruder, but before I can even demand his name he screams. I demand his name anyway and he continues screaming. I slap him and he screams.

"You!" I roar, pointing to Emeril, "Why does this one scream?"

"I dunno! He just started doing it when Gordon came onto the set!"

"Who's Gordon?"

"The head chef, of course!"

My instinct tells me that he's lying but my reason tells me that they are all so weak, so _pathetically_ weak, that they surely cannot be anything but mere chefs. Even so, they don't resemble any chefs _I've_ ever seen before.

"Are you all with the DWMA?"

They all stare at me in silence. Even the screaming man merely whimpers on the floor.

"Answer me!"

Jamie shrugs, "What's the DWMA?"

"Don't play dumb with me, boy."

"I really don't know! Is that another charity?"

I glare at Emiril, "Where are you from?"

"Massachusetts."

"How far is that from here?"

"I dunno lady, I don't even know where I am right now!"

"Then how did you get here?"

"I... I... we just..."

Jamie raises his hand. I stare at him.

"What are you, a child?"

His eyes are watery. I sigh in frustration, "Speak."

"We fell down from the ceiling."

"...the ceiling?"

"We were in London, filming a charity special for Masterchef, when all of a sudden there was this flash of light, and then we ended up here."

I don't recognise any of those names. It occurs to me that the DWMA probably did try to escape my trap once they realised what was happening. However, if my eyes are to be believed, they somehow transported these three strange men here instead of any DWMA staff. Which means...

 **IN THE STUDIO WITH GORDON**

Gordon leans back in his judge's chair, staring at Death The Kid's cupcakes.

"Well, Team Death," he begins, "you've certainly done a good job with this cupcake. I'm surpised. Compared to the garbage I've seen so far from you lot, this is almost perfect. But you clearly didn't pay attention to me before, because I asked for _several_ cupcakes. Cupcakes _plural_."

"This is a perfect cupcake. I made sure every part fitted my specifications exactly."

"You're losing points for only making one."

Beside me, Soul messes around with his phone. My throat is dry. There's no way he'll just let Kid off, not after he attempted to slap Professor Stein for his skin cell cupcakes earlier on. Ramsay picks up a knife and lowers it towards the cupcake.

"Wait!" Kid cries out, "If you're going to cut it, you _must_ cut it directly down the middle. You need to cut it _perfectly_ and _precisely_."

" _I'm_ the judge here, Kid."

"I can't stand by and watch you destroy this cupcake's symmetry."

Ramsay suddenly smashes his fist into the cupcake, then lifts its remains to his mouth and scrapes them off of his hand with his teeth like a feral dog. Then he pauses, "This cake taste as good as it looks. Well... as good as it _looked_. This is the best one yet."

Death the Kid simply stares at the spot where the cupcake used to be. I notice Professor Stein whisper something to Papa. I tug on Soul's jacket.

"Soul, I think this might be it."

Kid twitches, "Liz... Patty... execution mode."

Ramsay smirks, "Execution _what_?"

But before he can react, Kid's soul expands rapidly till it fills the whole room. Then he points his guns at the head chef.

"You," he growls, "You've mocked my friends, attempted to attack my teacher... you hold us in this place against our will and now... now you've destroyed my _perfect_ cupcake! Your sins are unforgivable, Gordon Ramsay. Consider yourself judged."

Ramsay gets up from his seat, "You don't scare me. None of you do! You think I've been harsh? I'll show you harsh!"

He flips the judging table up so hard it lodges itself in the ceiling. The cameramen stare up at it and camera flashes spark around the room. Soul grimaces, "Maka, this is getting serious." I nod. Papa transforms into his weapon form. Tsubaki does the same. Then Ramsay starts to laugh.

"Look!" He bellows, his eyes glowing red, "Look! LOOK!" His arms balloon outwars until they're twice as thick, and his teeth sharpen. He pounds the floor, leaving a huge crack in it.

"It's time to cook with fire, you little s***!"

He lunges at Kid, but before he can so much as lay a finger on Kid's head, he yells,

"Death Cannon!"

A beam of pure darkness bursts out of Liz and Patty, combined now into one gun. The beam rips into Ramsay, launching him into the far wall and disintegrating his shirt, his hair, incinerating the concrete. Ramsay screams, "You can't kill me with this, fool!" but then the beam fades and all that's left of the chef is his ashes, mixed in with those of the now-destroyed wall.

Stein leaps onto his team's work surface, "Everyone, run! Out of the hole, now!"

We run, and we don't look back. Shinigami-sama, we're coming, so please wait just a little bit longer.

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THAT'S IT FOR CHAPTER ONE, BUT TUNE IN NEXT TIME FOR MORE RAMSAY-TASTIC SOUL EATER CAKE GARBAGE LOVE JOY!


	2. Chapter 2

WELCOME BACK FRIENDS ARE YOU READY TO RUMBLE? COS I KNOW A CHEF WHO IS!

 _ **Disclaimer** **FROM KING RAMSAY HIMSELF** : __I don't f***ing own Soul Eater. Soul Eater is the bloody property of Atsushi Ohkubo and Square Enix, and is not my intellectual property cos I'm a f***ing professional chef and I have no time for this bollocks. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought cos I'm already stinking rich. This is for entertainment purposes only. Furthermore, this is a work of fiction which features fictional representations of real people, namely me, Gordon f***ing Ramsay. Needless to say, none of the events are true. This story is a p*** poor representation of me and is based solely on my TV personality and not on my chocolatey inner core. It is complete and utter crack-tastic fictitious fiction. **  
**_

 **RIBBIT**

"So this is the Kishin..."

The huge mass of bandages hanging above me seem to make the air itself pulse. I feel each beat thump through my chest. My throat suddenly feels dry.

"Why do _I_ have to be the one to do this? I'd rather have fought the entire DWMA than _this_. No offense, Mr. Kishin."

When did the air get so thick in here? So dizzy... No, no! Steady your feet, Eruka. Focus. Just gotta reach up and inject this black blood. Just gotta reach up, and...

I stretch my arms up towards the Kishin. Closer, closer, till the tips of my fingers are almost touching him. My brow is sweating. My fingertips touch the Kishin's bandages and!

Nothing. Nothing at all. It's just a bandage.

Phew. Okay, here we go then. Time for the black blood. I need to get this right or Medusa really _will_ kill me. 3, 2, 1 - go! I stab the needle into the Kishin and pump every last drop of the black blood into his body. Good. Job done. Now to-

The Kishin explodes in a ball of darkness, launching me backwards till I smack into a wooden pillar. I look up, and there he is. He looks to be about the size of a mountain castle but I know that we're underground and that's impossible. He glows bright white apart from his eyes, which burn red. Perhaps the most terrifying part is his booming voice.

"Who the hell are you!?"

"M-Me? I'm Eruka! I awoke you from your sleep O' great Kishin, to ask-"

"Kitchen!? Yes, where _is_ the kitchen, and why aren't you in it?"

"I'm sorry?"

"And where's your uniform!?"

"We're not in a kitchen, Mr. Kishin."

"My name is _not_ Mr. Kitchen! Are you taking the f***ing p***?!"

"I, I didn't, I mean-"

" _You_ , you insolent pipsqueak, will call me by my proper title: Grandmeister Chef _Ramsay_. Now make me some carbonara, before you _really_ p*** me off. "

I look around but there's no one here to help. Of course there isn't, _I_ was the one sent ahead to do this, though Free should be here soon. Where is he?

"What are you waiting for!? GO AND MAKE THAT CARBONARA, **NOW**!"

"Yes sir, Mr. Grandmeister Chef Ramsay sir!"

I run back the way I came. I don't know what happened, but it wasn't meant to be this. Something's wrong. _Really_ wrong.

 **THREE DAYS LATER, AFTER MANY FRUSTRATINGLY LONG AND UNPLEASANT BUS JOURNEYS AND AFTER EXPERIENCING TRULY TERRIBLE CUSTOMER SERVICE AT A LOCAL POST OFFICE DURING AN ATTEMPT TO MAIL THEMSELVES TO DEATH CITY, THE DWMA CREW REALISE THAT THEY HAVE ONLY ONE OPTION LEFT IF THEY WANT TO RETURN HOME**

"And that's why we're opening a bakery," says Professor Stein, his face as inscrutable as ever.

"What!? But baking is so uncool!"

"Soul, I've just explained to you why we have no choice."

"No you didn't, you just let the weird narrator voice do some filler and then _pretended_ you explained yourself."

"Long story short, Gordon Ramsay is now the Kishin."

"Come on, now you're just talking shi-"

"Maka~a CHOP!" I say, Maka-chopping Soul.

"Good job, Maka."

"How long will we need to bake for?"

"A thousand cakes should do it."

Behind me, Black Star laughs to himself about how his cakes will completely surpass the baking process (and God).

 **AND SO THE PRODUCERS DECIDE**

"My name is (okay everyone so I couldn't think of a name but here's what we're gonna do, okay? You think of someone you know who's really pretentious - and I mean _really_ pretentious. Imagine someone who is so far up their own Danger Zone that they look like a human pretzel. Do you have a person in mind? Okay, so imagine that person is a cheap-ass fake psychic, the kind that wants to come along and do ghost shows for a lol and play their colleagues and the audience for fools, and then you'll know what I'm going for here. So are we good? Good. Okay, let's get back to the story) and I am about to resurrect Gordon Ramsay from the dead" I say into the camera. We all know I can't really do it, but we all also know that in the post editing even a pile of smouldering ash can be made to look like a supermodel. I make some random noises.

"Nake Snake Cobra Cobra, Nake Snake Cobra Cobra" I say, laughing inside at how stupid it all sounds. "Awaken, oh great one, and join us once more among the living!"

I wave my hands about wildly, making a 'wooooo' sound as I do so. Then the cameraman gives me a thumbs up and I let out a deep sigh.

"He was a nice chap, old Gordon. Wish I really could bring him back. Still, at least now no one's gonna get beaten up over some carbonara ever again."

 **BACK AT THE DWMA, CRONA IS HAVING A BAD TIME**

Waiting around for an enemy to show up taught me one very important thing: I don't know how to deal with large empty rooms. I've had some experience of _small_ empty rooms and I already knew that I definitely couldn't deal with those, but _large_ empty rooms... I don't even know where to _start_.

"Crona I'm bored!"

Ragnarok rakes his knuckles over my head.

"Stop! Stop it!" I cry. I know how to interact with knuckles but I don't like it.

Light begins to disappear up into the ceiling, suffocating the area with darkness.

"Hey Crona, what's going on!?"

I hold Ragnarok in front of me, ready for an enemy, but no one comes. The room continues to get darker. I retreat until my back is against a tall pillar.

"The air tastes funny" Ragnarok grumbles. It does taste funny. It smells funny. It _sounds_ funny. I hear loud voices. Men's voices. I don't know how to interact with loud men. I don't know how to

limbs feel _stiff_ , _rusty_. I can't see Ragnarok. Where's Ragnarok? Suddenly so bright. Gasps. A woman screams.

"Gordon? Is that you? I can't believe it worked!" says a short balding man in a large purple cloak. I don't like him. I don't know how to deal with him. I want to erase him.

"Ragnarok..."

"...Mr. Ramsay?"

My arms begin to spasm. I notice that my arms are encased in metal. My eyes are encased in glass.

"You've trapped me."

"Not at all, Mr. Ramsay! This is your new body!"

"New body!? Where's Ragnarok!?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Sir."

A voice erupts from my stomach, "I'm in _here_ you fool! I'm gonna give you so many stomach aches!"

"No _please_ Ragnarok not stomach aches I hate stomach aches almost as much as I hate headaches!"

The balding man frowns. He leans over to a man in a tan suit and says, "I think something went wrong."

Ragnarok grumbles, "I'm hungry. _Really_ hungry."

I become aware of my new enormous, metal teeth. My mouth is a bear trap. Ragnarok's hunger seeps through me, polluting my mind. I look around - the room is full of plump, shiny people wrapped up in fancy suits.

"I'm hungry too," I reply.

I decide to test out my new body.

 **SOME THINGS NEVER CHANGE, EVEN WHEN YOU'RE IN A NEW BAKERY WHICH YOU SOMEHOW ACQUIRED DESPITE HAVING NO MONEY**

"I wanna make a _cool_ cake this time, Maka."

"Well I only know how to make cute ones, so make your own cake."

"I don't like baking."

"If we bake enough cakes, Ramsay will come back here, and then we can get back to Death City with his chef powers."

He fiddles with his headband, "It's been so long... Medusa's probably already bulldozed the DWMA."

"Soul, I'm trying to bake here. Just help me out with the icing or something rather than making me worry about everyone even more."

"Hmph."

Papa appears in front of us.

"Is everything okay Maka? Stein is busy with Death The Kid at the moment so if you need someone to help you bake-"

"I'm fine."

"If you're sure-"

"I am, Papa."

I place my mixture in the oven. It needs about thirty minutes. Thirty minutes. Soul whisks the icing, grumpily. I never thought _baking_ would be the thing to come between us. Papa skulks away, glancing over his shoulder and smiling in that repulsive way he does sometimes. I need to pull myself together.

"Let's make the next one cool," I say.

"What?"

"We can make the next one a cool design. You can pick what it looks like."

"Hmph," he grunts again, but I can see in his eyes that he's already warmed to the idea.

Opposite us, Tsubaki is decorating a multi-tiered wedding cake while Black Star does push-ups on the work surface.

"A piano, " Soul mumbles.

"You wanna make it look like a piano?"

"Yeah, we can like, put mirror glazing on it and shit. It'll look just like a real piano."

I smile, "Sounds like it'll be too good to eat."

He adjusts his apron and gets to work whisking the icing. He's grinning now. His teeth glint in the glare of the midday sun. Soul, you idiot, I think. You don't need to try so hard to pretend you're not enjoying yourself.

"NOO!" Death the Kid suddenly wails, "Look at the way it's risen! Look at this monstrosity! I've failed! I'm not worthy of being a baker!"

"It's okay Kid," Patty consoles, "it looks _just like_ a giraffe!"

"It's not _meant_ to be a giraffe! It's meant to be a _horse_!"

Professor Stein claps his hands, "Right everyone! Practice is over. Now I'm going to open the store."

"But we're-"

"No buts, Liz. Take whatever cakes you've baked thus far and put them on the display trays so that we can entice customers in. We're going to have to take custom orders if we're going to lure Ramsay here."

"Why can't we just bake what we want?" Soul asks.

"Because that wouldn't progress the plot in the right way."

"I still don't understand."

"You don't need to. Now, bring them up!"

Professor Stein places a huge intestine-shaped yule log at the centre of the display area. Black Star and Tsubaki place Black-Star-Signature waffles and their enormous wedding cake just behind that, and Soul and I put some rainbow cupcakes next to those. Death the Kid doesn't bring anything, probably because he's been spending all his time perfecting whatever is he's trying to make. Oh, I almost forgot I still have something in the oven!

I dash back and retrieve the cake from the oven just in time. It's risen nicely. The shop bell dings.

"Everyone! We have a customer!"

I look up. I don't immediately recognise the short, pale man, but Death the Kid and Black Star freeze on the spot. The man takes off his top hat and says,

"Greetings. My name is-

 **CARBONARA**

"Medusa, what's carbona-"

Eruka freezes when she sees me with my three 'guests'.

"Finish your sentence."

"What's... carbonara...? Also, who're they?"

"It's an egg-based pasta dish. And my name's Jamie Oliver!"

The chef bows as he says this. I resist the urge to kill him where he stands.

"These three chef idiots came here in the place of the DWMA idiots."

"They're chefs?"

"Do I have to repeat myself? More importantly-"

"AAAAA!" the third one screams. The only thing he does is scream. I should kill him now. Instead I wrap a snake around his throat until he passes out. The other two gasp. I ignore them.

"As I was saying, what's important here is awakening the Kishin. Why is he not with you, and furthermore where is Free?"

"I couldn't see him anywhere. I thought he'd come back to you."

"He has no reason to disobey my orders, and nor do you, Eruka."

"I didn't-"

"Well then, why are you not with the Kishin? Where is he?"

"He's back in the room, but-"

"No buts. Take me to him now."

"Sounds like we're about to take it up a notch!" cries Emeril Legasse. I punch him in the stomach.

"Shut up and follow me. Eruka, carry the unconscious one."

As we walk through the dusty halls, I realise that there really is no sign of Free. Worse, there's no sign of Crona, either. I'll have to punish that child _very_ severely for this. In the distance I hear a low rumble. Good, Eruka may not have failed me after all.

We enter the Kishin's chamber. However, only still silence greets us.

"Eruka," I say softly, "if you value your life, you _will_ take me to the Kishin."

"I'm telling you, he was right here!"

"TAKE _YOU_ TO THE KITCHEN? HOW ABOUT TAKE _ME_ TO THE F****ING KITCHEN!"

Suddenly, towering above us is a colossal glowing man, his face contorted in pure rage.

"O' great Kishin! I am Medusa, the witch who has awoken you from your great slumber!"

"I DON'T GIVE A F*** WHO YOU ARE, MAKE ME SOME BLOODY CARBONARA RIGHT NOW, OR I'M GONNA THROW YOU OUT OF MY KITCHEN _._ "

"With all due respect, this isn't a-"

He roars, making the entire room tremble, then he rams his fist straight through the ceiling. I fall onto my back. Rubble collapses all around us. Is this the true power of the Kishin?"

"Mr. Kishin!" Eruka screams, "please-"

"MY NAME," he tears down more ceiling, "IS," smashes the floor, "GORDON, F***ING," now the pillars, "RAMSAYYYYYY!"

I quickly use my vector arrows to block incoming debris. Eruka huddles beside me. She's repulsive, but useful, so I don't push her away. Eventually the beast stops roaring and the ground becomes still, and quiet. This was not how I expected the Kishin to be. This might make things... difficult.

Then I hear a voice:

"Ooo! Seems like we're not so stuck in here after all!"

No, it can't be... Shinigami!?

I peek through a gap in the rubble and there the old fool is, wandering into the room. He'll be dead once the Kishin sees him. I feel my excitement building as I try to keep my soul wavelength hidden. I'll be able to see _the_ Shinigami killed before my very eyes. Yes, this is truly a glorious day.

"Hm, looks like it's empty," he comments. He and his cohorts all wander into the room, look around, then wander straight out, down the hall I came in from. What's going on? Where's the Kishin. Where _is_ he?

For a while there is only silence. Then in the distance, I hear Shinigami's voice echo,

"A-ha! There _is_ someone down here."

I feel my stomach collapse in on itself. Did he bump into Free? Why did that wolf not stick to my plans? I thought I could trust him to at least do _that_ much.

"You wouldn't happen to know where my carrot cake is, would you?" comes a cheery voice.

"Carrot cake? Why, I'm actually quite partial to carrot cake!" Shinigami replies.

"Well if you have a kitchen, I can whip up another one for you."

"Yeah that's it! Take it up a notch, Jamie!"

"AAAAA!"

Oh god. He found the idiots.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

WOW WHO WOULD'VE gUESSED THAT? I DIDN'T, AND I wROTE THE DAMN THING! NEXT UPDATE WON'T BE FOR A FEW WEEKS SO HOLD YOUR HINEYS TIGHT COS THEY MIGHT FALL OFF IN THE NEXT CHAPTER COS NEXT TIME WE GET TO MEET THE iNCREDIBLE oX fOORRDDDDDDDDDDD


	3. Chapter 3

YO YO YO! I'M PROBABLY GONNA UPGRADE THIS TO 'M' NEXT CHAPTER BECAUSE IT GETS EVEN MORE iNTENSEEEE AND THE RAMSAY ETC.! THIS ONE TOOK LONGER TO WRITE THAN I ANTICIPATED COS IT'S SO HUGE AND THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL PROBABLY TAKE JUST AS LONG BUT GOSHSHSHS DADDDFJFBWIKUJB IT'S GONNA BE GOOD DON'T YOU KNOW ITTT. LOOK FORWARD TO THAT RAMSAY x OX FORD COS IT'S COMING FRIENDS AND IT'S GONNA BE GLORIOUS

 _ **Disclaimer** **FROM KING RAMSAY HIMSELF** : __I don't f***ing own Soul Eater. Soul Eater is the bloody property of Atsushi Ohkubo and Square Enix, and is not my intellectual property cos I'm a f***ing professional chef and I have no time for this bollocks. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought cos I'm already stinking rich. This is for entertainment purposes only. Furthermore, this is a work of fiction which features fictional representations of real people, namely me, Gordon f***ing Ramsay. Needless to say, none of the events are true. This story is a p*** poor representation of me and is based solely on my TV personality and not on my chocolatey inner core. It is complete and utter crack-tastic fictitious fiction. **  
**_

* * *

 **[OX FORD ISN'T COMING ALL RIGHT? HE'S BUSY dANG IT AND HE NEEDS SOME tIME]**

 **MAKA MEETS A LIVING LEGEND (AGAIN)**

"So, what kind of cake can we do for you?" Professor Stein asks our first customer.

"Would you like to hear the tale of my epic exploits?"

"How about you tell us your order first, and then-"

"My legend begins in the 12th century. I was a yankee then, the boxing manager for Andre the Giant, the world's tallest wrestler."

"Wait," Soul interrupts, "why were you the _boxing_ manager if the guy you were managing was a wres-"

"It was a difficult time to be a Dutchman, and the mayor of Excaliburtown-"

"There's no way you had a _whole town_ named after you."

"Fool! Don't interrupt me with such impertinent questions! The town's name is _clearly_ just a coincidence!"

Soul stares blankly at our first customer. Why did it have it to be Excalibur? Medusa would've been less frustrating than this.

"Now as I was _saying_ , the mayor of Excaliburtown bequeathed to me this teacup," he holds up a teacup and sips from it. He takes a second sip. Then a gulp. Then he asks, clearly irritated, "Why is there no tea in this cup?"

Black Star screams.

Professor Stein smiles. The smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Sir," he says, "If you tell us your order now, we can prepare it for you while you enjoy your tea."

"There is no tea in this cup for me to enjoy!"

Tsubaki steps forward, "Let me refill it for you."

She reaches out to take Excalibur's cup but he stuffs it back in his pocket before her fingers can get anywhere near it.

"I'm not thirsty," he protests, "I am _hungry_ , for _cake_."

"With all due respect, your order-"

"One _hundred_ and _thirteen_ scones! I require exactly one hundred and _thirteen_ of them!"

Stein sighs with relief, "Right, you heard the man everyone. Get to it!"

"Wait! First you must hear of how I escaped the great prison of Azkaban!"

Stein gives me a serious nod and I back away from Excalibur. I tug on Soul's sleeve and he joins me. Everyone else remains where they are, forced to listen to Most Annoying Sword's tall tales.

"A hundred scones..." I whisper to Soul.

"A hundred and _thirteen_ ," he whispers back.

How on earth are we supposed to make that many by ourselves?

"It was 1933, wartime Australia," Excalibur continues, "and I was sat deep inside the deepest depth charge chocolate cannon teacake bomb ever built, named 'Bomber Yeah' by the locals, when all of a sudden-"

 **MAYBE OUR LADY OF GORGON IS HAVING A BETTER TIME...**

Still hiding beneath the rubble of what should've been the Kishin's chamber, I watch as Lord Death leads the three chef buffoons back up the hole 'Ramsay' made and into Death City proper. Those idiots will doubtless tell him everything they know. Maybe they really _were_ spies. No, I'm just paranoid because of what a mess this has become. I know true stupid when I see it, and those three chefs are the stupidest apes I've ever had the misfortune of _not_ killing. Speaking of idiots, I wish Eruka would let go of my arm already.

"Eruka, when you injected the black blood into the Kishin, what did you see?"

She shakes beside me in silence. I elbow her in the gut.

"Eruka, answer me."

"He just exploded and became that huge glowing monster."

"I trust you're not _lying_ to me..."

I awaken the snakes within Eruka. She doubles over in pain.

"No, no I promise!" she cries.

"Don't shout like that, you fool! If the DWMA find us now then it's all over. Things are already bad enough as they are. What we need to do now is re-establish communication with Crona and Free, then track down this new Kishin. He's short tempered and difficult to manage, but that could end up being to our advantage. The question is, where the hell did he _go_?"

 **SO MANY QUESTIONS! HERE'S A QUESTION FOR YOU: WHO NEEDS A BINARY GENDER WHEN YOU CAN HAVE A ROBOTIC BODY OF MASS DESTRUCTION INSTEAD? HERE'S YOUR ANSWER**

I'm starting to get used to this clumsy metal body. Ragnarok seems to like it too. It leaves more mess than my old one though. A _lot_ more. This kitchen is almost entirely red now. _My_ blood isn't red. My blood will never be red.

Suddenly a huge cloud of fire gushes down from the ceiling. I watch as it whirls around the cookers and the smashed up cooking utensils. Slowly, it forms the shape of a man.

"Who are you?" I ask.

"Who am _I_? Who the f*** are _you_?"

He stomps towards me. Then he pauses, taking in his surroundings.

"Is this... a _kitchen_?" he gasps.

"...yes."

"F***ing _finally_! Right, now we can get back to baking."

He pulls up a stool and places it in front of all the workspaces.

"So I take it you're the only one left then?" he barks.

"I'm always alone."

"We normally have two teams in the finals. Where's your opponent? For that matter, where the bloody hell is your partner?"

"He's inside me."

"Ha ha, very funny." The man stares at me. "Wait..." he growls, "you look just like me."

I start to back away. He gets up, floating towards me.

"I'm not like you. I don't even know who you are," I protest.

"I'm Gordon f***ing Ramsay. I'm the head chef, the one true meisterchef."

"Meister...?"

His face presses up against mine; flames pour down his glowing skin.

"Yes, Meisterchef. It's the name of my program. And you're on it, whether you like it or not, so get baking."

I start to feel dizzy. I don't like this man. I want to erase him. I want him gone.

"Ragnarok, help me" I plead.

"I'm stuck in your stomach, you idiot."

The burning man scowls at me, "Who's Ragnarok? Get to your work station _now_."

My body goes numb. I can't deal with this man. I have no choice. I can't deal with him. Ragnarok begins to screech. I raise my claws. Yes, he needs to be erased. He needs to go. Feeling my consciousness drift away, I throw my arms forward in a single swipe at the meisterchef, but they pass right through him.

"So _that's_ how you wanna do it, huh...? You bloody idiot."

He backs off. Then I notice that all the pots and pans and knives and forks lying around the kitchen before are now floating around the head chef.

He smirks. Somehow it makes his face look even uglier.

"Welcome to hell's kitchen."

 **THINGS ARE HEATING UP IN THE KITCHEN, BUT LET'S SEE HOW MAKA IS DOING...**

"Okay, we have 99 scones now Soul!"

"Maka I don't think we have enough dough for any more."

"What!? How is that possible? We had a mountain of dough here earlier. I even weighed it all, where did it-"

Then I notice the bowl waddling off back to the store entrance, carried by none other than Excalibur himself.

"This is a lovely scone," he says.

"No, that's just the dough," I reply, " _these_ are the-"

"I first invented scones in the 15th century, after I defeated Guan Yu in a battle of tic tac toe while bathing on a naturist beach in the south of France."

"Are you going to eat _these_ scones though, cos we made-"

"The beach is what gave me the idea. It reminded me of a dating game a friend of mine once refused to lend me, and of the emotions I felt at that time. I picked up the sand, chucked it into the ocean, and the sand became wet."

We all wait silently for him to continue, but he simply stands there, holding the bowl in his tiny hands.

"This is a delicious scone," he says.

Stein smiles again, and yet again it doesn't reach his eyes.

"I will now take my leave," Excalibur announces, "as it is almost time for tea. Good day to you all!"

He strolls out of the front door and onto the street outside. It's not as sunny out there any more. How long were we baking scones for? My shoulders groan at me. I look over just in time to spot Soul stuffing a whole scone into his mouth. He grinds it up, chews it for a few seconds and then swallows it. After a loud burp he says,

"I've decided: scones are _not_ cool."

 **SO _THAT'S_ WHERE HE WAS!**

"FREEEEEE! I'M FREEE!" I scream to the two old men relaxing on this naturist beach in the south of France. "No more taking orders, no more being locked up, no more anything except sun, sea, and lots and lots of naked _me_! WOOO!"

"Did you know, old man?" I scream, "I DON'T DIE! I'M IMMORTAL!"

He squints at me and then rolls over to tan his backside.

"I LOVE THIS PLACE!" I roar to the sky, "I NEVER WANNA LEAVE!"

 **MEANWHILE, SOUL AND MAKA ARE IN BED AT THE SAME TIME - BUT NOT TOGETHER THOUGH! WOWWwwwwWWW WOULD THAT BE SPICY! TOO SPICY FOR DAYTIME TV BABY YEAHHHhhHhHhHhHhHh**

Lying on the floor of the Girls' Pantry, using a bag of flour for a pillow - because apparently although we could afford a whole bakery we couldn't afford bedrooms, or even _beds_ , I ask Liz,

"Do you think we'll ever make it back to Death City?"

She yawns, "We better do soon, or else Kid will _completely_ lose his mind."

"I heard him screaming earlier."

"That's cos he baked a giraffe when he wanted a horse."

"Why did he want a horse? What kinda cake was it?"

"A perfectly symmetrical gingerbread farm cube, or something like that."

"Ahh."

"I was surprised he didn't just bake a plain cube. Or a figure eight. He loves the number eight."

"Soul and I were baking a piano."

"How did it turn out?"

"Excalibur took all our dough."

"I think I might've seen that. I was half-asleep at the time though."

"His stories have a way of putting people to sleep."

"Tell me about it. So he took all your dough?"

"Yeah."

"And then you made some more, right?

"We did make some more, but then Papa came over to irritate me and knocked our bowl onto the floor."

"Oh _that's_ what that was."

"In the end we finished it after everyone had already gone to bed. I thought I'd be the only one up."

"I'm a night owl."

"Soul's like that too."

 **INSIDE THE HEAD OF SOUL THE NIGHT OWL**

Lying on the floor of the Boys' Pantry, using a bag of flour for a pillow - because apparently although we could afford a whole bakery we couldn't afford bedrooms, or even _beds_ , I ask Black Star,

"Why the hell did you bake a wedding cake?"

"Tsubaki wanted a pretty cake, and I wanted a cake so huge that I could weight train with it, so we agreed to go marital!"

"...it sounds weird when you say it like that."

"The only weird one here is you."

Death the Kid screams again.

"No," he cries, "I can't possibly sleep in this room. It's hideous. Not only are the shelves arranged with absolutely _no_ regard for symmetry, thelengths and heights of this room's very _walls_ are uneven. It's impossible. Impossible!"

"Kid, " Stein begins, his voice perfectly level, "this is the best I could do. It's a bakery, not a hotel."

"It astounds me that anyone could _work_ in an environment like this, let alone _sleep_ in it!"

"We'll be back at Death City soon."

"I'm going to go and sleep in a cupboard."

"If you insist."

"At least it'll be cuboid, unlike this monstrosity."

He storms out of the pantry door and into the kitchen/showroom. I sigh. I think this might just be the most bored I've ever been in my entire life. Ramsay, you dirty pig fu- [WOAH okay Soul, I get that you hate the guy but no need to be THAT colourful with your language! Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?] you better show up soon like Stein says, or I'm gonna track you down myself and you don't even know what I'll do to you then. You don't wanna cross me when I'm bored.

 **THERE'S NO TIME FOR BOREDOM AT THE HOUSE OF FUN THAT IS THE MEISTERCHEF KITCHEN!**

A molten cooling rack soars by my metal head. The meisterchef charges towards me, swirling spatulas around his burning body.

"Why can't I kill him, Ragnarok?"

"How am _I_ supposed to know?" Ragnarok retorts.

"You're stuck in my stomach..."

"And?"

I don't know. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to deal with this body. It worked so well earlier, why can't I use it now? I can't feel my black blood.

The meisterchef erupts over a work station and punches me on my huge clunking jaw. I stumble over a chair and fall on my back. Above me, a flying whisk glowing white hot, spinning wildly in the air.

"Say my name," the flaming monster commands.

"I can't... I can't remember-"

"SAY IT!"

"Meisterchef!"

"No you _fool_! My name is GORDON RAMSAY!"

The whisk launches itself at me. Before I can react, it's already lodged in my mouth. It scrapes against my steel lining, worms its way inside me. My ears are filled with the laughter of Gordon Ramsay.

"Raggngggng" I splutter, unable to speak with the whisk drilling into my metal gut.

"Oi, Crona, get that thing out of here!"

"Hgnghrrhghr!"

"Woah, actually I changed my mind! Keep it coming! I think I can _use_ this. Oh yes, _yes_ , this is _perfect_!"

I feel myself boiling inside. I'm melting, but it doesn't hurt. No, actually, it feels... _good_. I can feel my blood again. It leaks through me, dissolving patches of my metal skin.

"You said your name was... Gordon Ramsay?" I burble.

The meisterchef frowns, "I didn't give you permission to speak."

"Well, Mr. Ramsay, I have something I need to tell you. You see, I'm not like other people. Normal people have _red_ blood running through their veins, but _my_ blood..." my metal shell melts away completely, and I am a puddle of oily ooze. I force an arm out of the slime, then another. I feel my skull harden around me, feel my skin tingle as hair tickles its way out of my scalp. I guess I didn't really know how to deal with that metal body. This one is much more comfortable. I take a deep breath.

"My blood, Mr. Ramsay, is pitch black."

His eyes glow blood red, "You little f***, you don't scare me!"

"Ragnarok," I whisper, "scream resonance."

Ragnarok's screeches slice through the air, disrupting the meisterchef's cloud of flames. My black sword drags me towards him, piercing through his heart. He doesn't even flinch. He grabs the sword. I keep a steady hold on it. I can see the veins on Ramsay's temples. How can he have veins? Is he actually human? I've never met someone so frustrating. I need to erase him immediately.

I start to drag my sword up through his glowing body. Ragnarok continues screeching, causing everything in the room to shred down further and further, turning work stations into sawdust and frying pans into shrapnel, but Ramsay refuses to die. The tip of my blade approaches his throat.

"Die! Die!" I scream.

"IS THAT ANY WAY TO TALK TO THE HEAD CHEF!?" he bellows, shoving me away with such force that I smash into the wall on the other side of the room. My vision clears too late for me to avoid the swarm of knives whistling straight for my chest. They all find their target. Thankfully, normal knives have no effect on me. I get to my feet.

"You can't kill me, meisterchef."

He hisses in rage, " _Impossible_! _I_ am the head chef here! I am _perfect_!You answer to _me_!"

"I only answer to Medusa, and she isn't here now."

"Yeah," Ragnarok adds, "as of now, we're free agents, you dumbass! We don't answer to you, or anyone!"

Ramsay smirks again, "Is that so? Okay then, if you won't listen to me, then maybe you'll listen to _this_!"

He raises his arms in the air and begins to roar. A hole opens up in the ground. Smoke rises out of it, as black as the night sky.

"Come, my sous chef! Aid me in conducting this televised baking competition!"

There's a flash of light. For a moment, I'm completely blinded. When things finally clear, standing before me is-

 **UNDER THE SEA!**

Being naked on the beach is the best. Nothing beats it. Nothing. This is true Freedom. I feel like I have a hundred bald eagles stuff inside me right now, in the best way possible. If I never saw Medusa or Crona or that frog lady again it'd be all too soon. Not that I hold a grudge against them - they did set me free after all. But I'm not the kinda man to be tied down to a contract. No sir. I was born to live Free.

Is it me, or is the sand vibrating a _lot_? There's something rumbling somewhere. Oh god, I'm sinking! I'm sinking! No one told me this was quicksand! No! Why were there no signs? I won't die but like, come on man! I'm not getting stuck in sand!

"HELP! HELP ME!"

But the couple of old men populating the beach are too deaf and too far away to hear me now. I sink into the sand, into darkness.

Ugh.

Then suddenly I fly into the air and hit something very, very solid.

"Goddamn it shi-"

I fall to the floor. Standing before is a huge man. There's something odd about him. He just kinda, stands out. To put another way, he's really flaming. I mean, he's literally on fire. He points a burning finger at me,

"YOU! SOUS CHEF!"

I nod, dumbstruck by his shininess.

"YOU WILL SERVE ME IN FIGHTING _THIS_."

He points behind me. I turn around and who do I see? Crona. They wave.

"I guess I wasn't the only one who got sent here," they say.

I hold my head in my hands.

"GODDAMMIT SHIIIIIII-"

 **AND THAT'S ALL WE HAVE TIME FOR THIS WEEK FOLKS! TUNE IN NEXT TIME FOR**

 **MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE**

 **MEISTERCHEF!**

 **[fart noises]**

* * *

YET ANOTHER BOWEL-TASTIC SURPRISE! EVEN _I_ DIDN'T SEE THAT COMING! I DIDN'T _SMELL_ IT COMING EITHER! I LOVE YOU ALL AND _**THANK YOU FOR THE REVIEWS!**_ THEY'RE AMAZING AND YOU'RE AMAZING AND RAMSAY DOESN'T LOVE YOU BUT _I_ DO!


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